


I Was Wrong

by eli99alien



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dark Past, Deceit Sanders Being An Asshole, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Manipulative Deceit Sanders, Past Relationship(s), Swearing, that's a great tag, this feels like it's very out of character but that's just how life is on this bitch of an earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eli99alien/pseuds/eli99alien
Summary: Tumblr request: "Anonymous asked: 'I thought I loved you, but I guess I was wrong'"Deceit and Virgil angst, post Accepting Anxiety and Can Lying Be Good. The more time Virgil spends with the “light” sides, the more he realizes his worth and how poorly the “dark” sides—especially one in particular—treated him. Deceit just does his thing.





	I Was Wrong

In most instances, he came at night. Just like Virgil did with Thomas so often, keeping him from sleep, worrying him about anything and everything he could think of. The irony was cruel; Virgil couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it.

At night, when the mind is at its weakest, when anxiety is at an all time high, when lies are easy to believe, when questionable decisions are made.

Deceit could be present without actually, physically being present. He could whisper to the mind, whether the whispers were sweet or sinister. And at night, with no distractions or reassurance that lies were, in fact, lies, he was at his strongest.

Virgil never tossed or turned, but instead he laid in bed, on his back, staring up at the ceiling fan slowly turning above him. He was used to this; the lack of sleep, the heavy eyelids, the racing mind that refused to shut down and just  _rest already._  There was no doubt that, even if he did manage to get some sort of sleep, come morning he would still be exhausted, still visibly weary, still a stick in the mud,  _boring, gloomy, downer, annoying, worthless, worthless, worthless._

The motions of the ceiling fan were beginning to make him dizzy, and a dread settled in his stomach that he knew wasn’t just nausea. Virgil closed his eyes and attempted his usual breathing exercise, shooing the thoughts away to the best of his ability. He repeated to himself a short mantra that Patton had taught him, that usually helped at least a little bit in situations like this.

_I am capable. I know who I am and I am enough. I am whole, healthy, and strong. I am deserving and worthy of all good things. I know the people in my life truly care about me, and I care about them too. I am capable. I am enough._

He repeated it to himself a few times over, the phrases memorized now due to how often he had to use them. But his heart continued to beat at a pace that was entirely unnecessary, his mind continued to reel, and he could no longer keep up the regular breathing.

_I am capable. I am enough. I am capable. I am enough. I am capable. I am—_

_You are_

_Worthless._

He sat up suddenly, pressing his palms to his face and breathing in sharply through his nose.  _Not tonight. Please, not tonight_. Before tears could begin to form, he threw the covers off and stood from the bed, arms wrapped protectively around his middle. In bare feet, he left his room as quietly as possible and tiptoed down to the kitchen, all while the thoughts persisted.

_Waste of space. Waste of time. Waste of air._

With shaking hands, Virgil opened a cupboard and reached for a glass. Water, he just needed water, it’d be fine, _it’ll be fine_. His hands were slick with sweat, unstable, and the glass slipped from his grip as he pulled it from the cupboard. Despite his efforts to catch it, it bounced off his fingers and hit the ground with a loud shatter. He instinctively jumped back from the broken glass, hissing, “Shit!”

He pulled at his hair, gritting his teeth, hoping that no one heard, hoping that no one else was awake to see him like this. The last thing the others needed was another one of his stupid dilemmas, something they’d already worked through. It was pathetic, that even with the daily reminders from his friends about his importance, his purpose, how much they really cared, he still felt like this. He still struggled with his own worth, he couldn’t even manage to sleep right, he couldn’t even hold a cup without  _screwing everything up._

It was pathetic.

_You are pathetic. You are worthless._

“I know!” He whisper-shouted, sucking in a sharp breath as the tears began to fall. He sunk to the ground, dangerously close to the shards of glass, but he didn’t care. He sat with his back against the counter, legs tucked underneath him, all energy leaving his body.

His eyes were closed, but he could feel him there, hear the tapping of his shoes and the shuffling of his obnoxiously hideous clothing as he crouched in front of Virgil, crushing the glass further beneath his feet.

“Go away,” Virgil managed, his voice wavering, thick with grief.  _I can’t take this anymore._

Deceit laughed under his breath, quiet and yet chilling to Virgil’s core. He kept his eyes shut tight, jaw clenched.

“Refusing to look at me won’t do you any good, dear, you know this.”

A lie.  _All he does is lie. Everything he says is a lie._  Virgil shook his head, resisting the urge to look. He treated Deceit’s unwanted visits like he would a bad dream. Look away, refuse to give it any power, it can’t hurt you unless you let it. A soft hum, and then Virgil felt gloved fingers gripping his chin. His eyes shot open to their own accord, his heart pounding so quickly that it was almost painful in his chest. He froze, caught like a deer in the headlights, though instead of headlights it was a pair of eyes that weren’t really a pair at all. Mismatched. One eye of a human, one eye of a snake. His breath shook, terror filled him from his fingertips to his toes. He had to remind himself, over and over again,  _they’re all lies._

He’d imagined scenarios like this, in which he would confront Deceit, or one of the other “dark sides” (as Roman called them). Tell him to shove his lies somewhere not so pretty, maybe even deck him for old time’s sake. But when it came down to the real thing, Virgil was frozen, trapped. Cowardly. Pathetic. Worthless. He couldn’t even protect himself from the lies, how could he expect himself to protect any of the others? To protect Thomas?

“Look at you. I’ve always thought you were quite pretty when you cry,” Deceit cooed, leaning in much too close for comfort. Virgil tried to turn his head away but the other side’s grip tightened and he hissed with pain, instead directing his eyes anywhere but at the snake before him.

“Stop it,” he breathed. “You can’t do this anymore.”

“Oh, but I can. What did you expect, that I would simply cease to exist once you left? Hm? That I would just give up on you? You are much too important to me for that, my little storm cloud.”

“Bullshit,” Virgil hissed, showing a bit of courage that he didn’t think he actually had.

Deceit ignored his accusation and tried to meet the other’s eyes, growing visibly frustrated when he didn’t get what he wanted. He let go of Virgil’s chin and clicked his tongue, leaning back. He picked up one of the larger shards of glass and turned it over between two fingers as he spoke.

“What do you hope to gain from them?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. A half-smile settled onto his lips at the confused, hurt, scared look in Virgil’s eyes.

“Not everyone develops relationships with people just to gain something from them,” he said through clenched teeth. He could handle being told that he was worthless, he could deal with being used over and over again, but as soon as Deceit spoke badly about his new friends, his new family, Virgil grew defensive. Protective.

“They don’t actually care about you, dear. You must know that.”

“What, and you did?” he spat back, fists clenched at his sides.

That seemed to take Deceit by surprise. He tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips, setting the shard of glass down on the tile beside one of Virgil’s hands. Virgil pulled his fingers away from it and flicked his gaze towards Deceit, unsure of what he was planning on saying or doing. Part of him wanted to regret talking back, maybe it would just be better if he sat there and took it, just listened and nodded along obediently, it sure seemed to work enough for Deceit in the past, it could work again now. But as the snake moved closer once again, the angry fire rose in Virgil’s chest. Being this close to him again disgusted Virgil, made him want more than anything to crawl into a hole and decay. Or maybe push Deceit into a hole to decay. That sounded wonderful.

“Anxiety—”

“That isn’t my name, and you know it—”

“Of course I care about you,” the man insisted, ignoring the other’s words, pulling Virgil away from his thoughts. The gloved fingers returned to his face, this time tapping one by one against his cheek.

Virgil swatted them away before he could second-guess himself, muttering, “No.”

“No?”

“No. You don’t. You never did.” Virgil grew more and more defiant, now leaning forward instead of recoiling, jabbing an accusatory finger at Deceit’s chest. It was the snake’s turn to recoil, to have a deer-in-the-headlights sort of expression, though he quickly hid his shock with a sly smirk. “You said you— you loved me, but that—… that was another lie. It wasn’t true, any of it, and it still isn’t.” Virgil sucked in a stabilizing breath and forced himself to keep going, rising to his feet and looking down on Deceit. He was no longer in control. Virgil refused to give him any power. “This, what you do, it isn’t love. What the others do, that’s love. I thought I loved you, but I guess I was wrong, because what I feel when I’m around Patton and Roman and Logan is nothing compared to what I feel when I’m around you. You make me afraid, you heighten my anxiety, you tear me down piece by piece until I’m just a little fucking plaything for you to toy with. Well I’m done, alright?!” He clenched his fists and pressed them to his shut eyes, keeping his jaw tight and refusing to let anymore tears slip out. “I’m done.”

Silence.

All he could hear was his own ragged breathing, but he didn’t dare open his eyes to see if Deceit had gone. He didn’t dare open his eyes to see if it was all a dream, or if he was in for the emotional manipulation of a lifetime, or if anything. He just stood there like that, for what felt like hours, breathing, breathing. No thoughts of self deprecation intruded on his breathing. He was hesitant to take that as a good sign.

“Virgil?”

He jerked, moving his hands from his face and looking with wide eyes to see who had spoken. Patton stood, barefoot and in his cat hoodie and pajama shorts, in the entrance to the kitchen. Last time, there were several indications that gave away Deceit’s disguise; the return to an old sweater that Patton had abandoned, the sudden and intrusive entrances rather than Patton’s usual giddy and (sometimes) well-timed ones, the blatant disregard for the discomfort of others. Unless Deceit was getting better at mimicking the soft concern in the moral side’s voice, the tired confusion in his eyes, or even the wardrobe choices, this was Patton, really Patton. There were no telltale signs that may have convinced Virgil of otherwise.

The anxious side breathed a sigh of relief, letting himself relax. Just as he was about to greet Patton, though, maybe give him a reason for his being up so late, Patton’s eyes were drawn to the tile in front of Virgil’s feet. He gasped and entered the kitchen carefully, kneeling down beside the glass to begin delicately picking up the bigger shards. Virgil returned to the floor as well and helped the best he could. The two threw away everything they could pick up, and then Patton finished up the rest with a small dustpan.

Once all the glass was gone, Virgil was ready to head back to bed without another word, but Patton’s worried touch on his shoulder stopped him.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” the moral side said, a sad smile on his lips. “But it isn’t hard to tell when… well, when someone or something is bothering you.” He scratched at the back of his neck while Virgil blatantly avoided meeting his eyes. “But hey, we’ve got you, kiddo, alright? Don’t forget that. What are you?”

Virgil looked up, confused by the question. “What?”

“What are you? Remember? I am capable. I know who I am and—”

“I am enough,” they said together, Patton giving Virgil a beaming smile as they finished the mantra.

“There. See? It’s true, all of it.”

“Yeah,” Virgil sighed, grateful for the reminder of what was truth and what wasn’t. “Thanks, Pat.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo. Come on.” Hand in hand, the two returned upstairs, stopping outside of Virgil’s bedroom. Patton pulled him into a tight, warm embrace, whispering “Lies are just that, Virgil; lies,” before they parted ways and Virgil finally got the rest he so desperately needed.

Lies are just that.

Lies.


End file.
